Underground
by kitkatsaymeow
Summary: In the futuristic town of Seaford, everything is difficult. People disappear frequently and are never to be seen again. Kim has had enough. She finds the secret underground rebellion and together with their leader, Jack, they fight to gain freedom from a sadistic dictator. But they all know the consequence if they are caught committing treason—death.
1. The Well

**New story here with Kim and Jack. This and SQ are probably my two favorite stories I've written. First chapter's kinda short. My "new years resolution" is to update more and make longer chapters. Anyway, enjoy and review!**

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_The streets were completely deserted. It seemed like a scene from a movie where the camera panned across a ghost town. It was after curfew, meaning everyone in their right mind was indoors and trying to distract themselves from the horrific events of the passed day. Every once in a while a boy or girl would find themselves stuck outside, where they were swiftly disposed of. People whispered of shadows snatching young children and older men and women who were never to be seen again. They constantly lived in fear that they or their family would be next to be taken. _

Chapter 1

Kim watched as the gong rang. To-night was the night. Her parents were staying the night at a good friend's house, leaving Kim alone.

"Lock the door and stay inside," they'd said.

But Kim wasn't planning to. For years she'd tried and failed to find the rebel hideout. She'd lived under the dictator's rule and obediently followed the ruled, but it was time to break that streak.

Kim dug her fingernails into the windowsill and didn't move. All the lights in her house were out, and the gong had just rung, signaling curfew.

She wore a black leather jacket—a gift from her brother before he disappeared (but more on that later)—and black jeans and boots so she was as dark as night.

_You cannot be seen_, she reminded herself. _You cannot be seen._

A movement caught her and she squinted into the shadows. A figure wearing a dark cloak moved quickly from building to building, pausing every once in a while to listen. Kim's heart began to race. This was it.

She opened the door and softly threaded down the street, following the person.

She knew the schedule well. After curfew was when the rebels met in their secret and carefully concealed meeting place, where they discussed the current situations. Kim assumed things like the mysterious Shadow creatures and the missing men, women, and children consumed most of their time.

She walked cautiously past a guard station, where she could hear sounds of loud talking and the clinking of glass from inside. The figure she was watching walked past the last building in the small town and knelt beside the well. After plumbing failures several years ago—no doubt the water was being taken by the dictator and used for his purposes—a well had been built to save the people time.

The person pressed several stone blocks on the side of the well, and waited. After a couple seconds, they stood up and and climbed down into the well.

Kim was expecting to hear a splash, but she heard no such thing. Instead, there was a thump, and then silence ensued.

Curious and confused, she made her way over to the well and looked down. Darkness met her gaze, so she carefully stepped down, clutching the edge. Her feet met footholds on the walls, so being cautious, she began her descent.

At one point she almost slipped and fell, but she caught herself, heart still pounding and the sound of her blood rushing in her ears. She kept going until her feet hit solid ground. Bewildered, Kim looked around. No water.

But it was a well, and it worked. Kim's mom brought water home from it every day. So where was the water?

She knelt down and touched the stone floor, rubbing her fingers together. They were now damp.

"Huh," Kim said to herself. She strained to see in the darkness and ran her hands over the walls. Nothing. No openings. No patches. The footholds in the walls were even gone.

Kim looked up. She was stuck.

"Damn it!" She groaned. She stomped on the ground in frustration.

Suddenly she heard heard a click and saw a door open in the wall.

Smirking, Kim realized that was the thump she heard from the other figure who came down here. She entered the doorway and pulled the door shut behind her.

There were two tunnels before her, branching off in two directions. The one on the left was lit, and the one on the right was pitch black. Sounds of dripping water echoed from this tunnel. They must've sealed off the left tunnel and drained the well water into the right tunnel.

"Clever," she murmured.

Kim continued down the left tunnel and could just make out voices talking in hushed tones. From what she could hear, it sounded like quite a few people, and it seemed as if they were waiting for something—or someone.

Peering through the slightly opened door, Kim was able to make out many people. They were all having private, quiet conversations. About what, Kim had no idea.

All of a sudden, a voice announced, "Would you all please find a seat?"

All the men and women shuffled out of Kim's point of view, so she quietly slipped inside. She almost fainted.

There were so many people!

Kim recognized Chelsea from the market, Stephen from the inn—even the quiet and supposed mute homeless man Kim passed every day.

There must've been four hundred people gathered there in that space underneath the city.

There were not any chairs, but boxes and crates were scattered around the room.

Kim's braid settled in the crook of neck, and she crept to the back of the room, where the shadows were the darkest.

"I would like to thank you all for risking your lives to come here to-night. We are all that's left of the rebellion in our town."

Kim saw the boy who was speaking standing on a crate, high above the rest. He looked her age, maybe a little older. He had shaggy brown hair and had a passionate glint in his eyes as he talked.

A girl near Kim turned to her, cocking an eyebrow.

"Who are you?" She asked. "I haven't ever seen you here before."

Kim's heart started to race.

"I've contacted the small population of rebels in Lenton and they're looking to strike all at once. Strate has huge numbers of people who are willing to fight back. Many other towns have decided that next week would be the best time, right after curfew," the boy said.

"Um, hello?" The girl said, waving a hand in Kim's face.

"Uhh...I'm Kim," Kim answered.

The girl's eyes narrowed. "How did you get here? How did you find us?"

Kim didn't answer. This could blow her whole cover. She could be in danger if they knew who she was.

"We're going to go over everything we have stored up for this kind of thing. Karen, you've taken care of the food?"

A woman stood up. "Yes. We have plenty."

"Milton, you've sorted the weapons?"

A red haired boy stood. "You bet. Every single one is in place."

"You're a spy!" The girl hissed, baring her teeth. Her dark brown hair was spread over her shoulders.

Kim shook her head urgently. "No, you really don't understand—"

The girl leaped to her feet. "Jack!" She shouted.

Everyone turned, including the shaggy brown haired boy.

"She's a spy!" The girl cried. Immediately everyone gasped, and Kim stepped forward.

"Look, I'm not a spy!" She protested.

The girl, with a crack, backhanded her with such force that Kim flew back into the wall, where she slid to the floor.

The girl was going to hit Kim again, but the boy stepped in front.

"That's enough, Grace," he barked.

Grace backed off and growled. "Jack, she's a filthy spy—probably works for the dictator. She must've followed someone here."

Kim was seeing stars. She could barely breathe; it felt like someone was sitting on her chest. Her head was killing her. Her blonde hair had come out of its braid, leaving it splayed around her head.

Several men came out of the crowd and yanked Kim to her feet.

"How did you get here?" Jack asked, his muscled arms folded across his chest. He was wearing tattered jeans and an obviously worn black T-shirt.

Kim blinked. "I followed someone in a black cloak. But I was just trying to—"

One of the men shook her violently. "Shut up. He didn't ask you anything else."

Kim's skull felt completely rattled. She could barely see straight. Jack made a noise.

"Black cloak?" He turned to Grace. "Weren't you wearing one? And you came in late."

Grace paled. "Jack, I'm so sorry. I was just careless. I should've covered my tracks."

Kim shook her head. "No, Grace, you were good. I've just trained myself to see the smallest things."

Grace stalked forward. "Yeah, well, the dictator's guards might've done the same. Then where would I be?"

Kim shrugged. "Just trying to help."

"I didn't ask for your help," Grace spat.

"Calm down, sis," Jack said. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

Grace went to stand next to but behind Jack. She crossed her arms. Her glare was pure fury that burned into Kim.

"How do we know we can trust you?" Jack asked.

Kim took a breath. She'd prepared for this.

"I swear to keep the secrets and strategies of this rebellion on the name of everything good in this corrupt world. I sever my allegiance to any dictator and take the pledge to serve the people forever."

She finished and looked Jack straight in the eye. Everyone seemed surprised, even Grace. But she recovered quicker.

"She could've heard that anywhere," Grace scoffed.

"My mother taught it to me in private when she was part of the failed rebellion twenty years ago. She was one of the only survivors. I see you haven't changed the pledge."

Jack's face softened. "What's your name?"

"Kim."

He smiled, then stuck out his hand. "Welcome to the rebellion, Kim."

Grace was livid. "You're trusting her?! Just like that?! Jack, this is suicide! We don't even know if she's telling the truth."

Jack sighed. "Grace, I can tell when people are lying. And she's not. Kim, please come with me."

Jack turned and began to walk away. The other people who'd been watching grabbed their coats and began to meander out and back to their homes.

Kim tried to follow Jack, but Grace stepped in her path.

"You better be real careful," she hissed. "My brother may like you, but I don't. And I'm dangerous when I'm mad."

"Well then you better avoid me," Kim said sweetly. She winked and continued to walk, but Grace stuck out her foot and tripped her, causing Kim to cry out as she prepared to strike the cold stone floor.

But instead she felt warm strong arms around her waist and neck, and she looked up and saw Jack holding her, his shaggy hair falling in his face. She was clutching his shirt with one hand and the other was on his shoulder. Jack smirked.

"Clumsy much?" He joked. He helped her to her feet and she started blushing. And not just from embarrassment.

"N-no, I just—never mind," Kim stuttered. Her heart was fluttering. What the hell? She never acted this way around boys. She was strong and independent.

And this boy would be no different, she thought firmly, and followed Jack out of the big room into a little hallway.

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**A/N: So I should update by the end of the week. Your reviews, follows, and favorites keep me going ;) Ill be sure to update SQ as soon as possible as well. To keep it it short, I'm going to nickname this story UG (for Underground).**

**Thanks!**

**—Kit Kat**


	2. Resistance

**Oh my gosh it's been like freakin FOREVER since I updated last! After the crazy snow storms we've been having in my area, we lost power. Then we regained it four days ago but STILL DIDN'T HAVE FREAKING INTERNET! Yeah, our wifi was down until literally five minutes ago. Of course the first thing I missed was you guys, so I'm going to update twice to show how sorry I am :( I already have, like, six chapters of this story written, and they're going to be longer than normal. Amazing what you can accomplish when you're not distracted by reading OTHER people's Fanfictions. Speaking of which, I'm reading a story called Half Truths. It's a Mortal Instruments fanfiction by purrina57, and it's incredible! Check it out and give her a review, pretty PLZZZZ!**

**||Oh, BTW, I changed the story to first person POV like Sleeping Quarters because I love that and it's so much easier to write. So enjoy!||**

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Chapter 2

Jack opened a door and walked inside, flopping on a hammock.

"This is where I sleep," he said casually, as the hammock rocked from side to side. He interlocked his fingers behind his head and smirked up at me. "Grace sleeps over there." He pointed behind me to another small space with a hammock, but with a lot more girly colors and clothes.

I nodded. "So, you live here?"

"Yeah. Grace and I lost our parents to the dictator several years ago in an attack, so when we found this place we moved right in. It's kinda like our second home."

He stopped, his eyes and features hardening. "I shouldn't have told you that."

"I won't tell anyone," I promised. Jack stood up.

"I have to go," he said coldly, shoving by me as he went to the door.

I cried out as I lost my balance and fell into a dresser, spilling little trinkets all over the floor.

Jack swore. He ran his hand through his hair violently, then stalked over to me, pushing me yet again out of the way. I fell back onto Jack's hammock, which swung underneath me.

I steadied myself and stood. Jack was picking up all the things that had fallen.

He turned. "Are you going to help or what?"

I snapped. "It was you who shoved me into it!"

He snarled and was about to say something else when the door opened. A man came walking in.

"Jack? Do you need any help?" He asked.

He was handsome, about my age. He saw me and smiled. I smiled back.

Jack stood. "Chris. Can you take Kim to her quarters?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing at the stuff on the floor. He motioned with his hand, and I followed him out, not looking at Jack. He could be arrested by the dictator for all I cared.

You don't mean that, a voice in my head said.

Do you?

I shook my head and followed Chris down the hallway to the opposite end.

"So are you staying here?" He asked while we were walking, turning his head to look at me. I looked into his eyes and realized how soft they were. How different from Jack's, which were hard and unrelenting. Chris's were warm and inviting and friendly.

"You know, you're the first person here that hasn't treated me like I'm a child or an enemy," I observed.

Chris chuckled. "Well, Grace isn't too good with words and Jack's pretty closed off. Besides, when people can turn against you at any minute, it's good to make friends so there's less of a chance of you being betrayed."

I bit my lip. "That's different. I've always heard if you're going to be betrayed then you should never let anyone in."

Chris shrugged. "I just want this damn war to be over. I wish the dictator would die in his sleep, so we could all be free."

I shook my head. "It wouldn't be that easy. If he died, someone would replace him and we'd be back to square one. We have to take him down as a whole. If only we could persuade the entire town to rise up."

There was a tense pause.

"My little sister fought," he said quietly and hesitantly. "She was only twelve but she was clever and quick, like a fox. She killed thirteen guards with a dagger before—" he almost choked on his words but disguised it as a cough. "Before they got to her. I remember watching her and knowing there was nothing I could do as they tortured her and eventually left her there for dead."

His voice finally cracked and he stopped to wipe his eyes. He tried to stay looking tough but I could see right through it.

I put a hand on his arm. "Hey."

Chris had a tear staining his cheek, which he got rid of rather aggressively.

"Hey," I said again. "It's okay. You can't beat yourself up about it. She sacrificed herself for the resistance. There was nothing you could do."

Chris nodded. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you all that. I just met you and now you think I'm weak."

I shook my head. "No. Everyone needs to let it out sometime. You boys can't be macho all the time."

Chris smiled. "I don't know what it is about you. You kinda make me feel like I can tell you anything and you won't judge me."

I thought about Jack baring his soul for a split second before realizing what he'd done. Did I really have that effect on everyone?

We got to the end of the hallway, and Chris said, "You never answered my question."

I cocked my head. "What question?"

"If you're staying here or not."

"Probably not," I replied. "My parents would be worried sick. But I might need a place to come to in case things go bad."

He quirked a smile. "That's a pretty good idea."

Chris opened the door and showed me an almost empty room. There was a small bed—not a hammock—but enough for maybe two people. It had a fluffy white pillow and sheets, but they were so old they almost had a yellowish tint to them. There were crates on the floor and a wire connected to two walls, creating a taut line. There were mangled hangers on it, looking as if they'd been fashioned from spare metal.

"Gloomy," I commented, walking over and sitting on the bed. It was surprisingly comfortable.

Chris leaned against the doorframe. "Glad you like it. You got time to get some coffee?"

I started. "You have coffee here? How'd you manage that?"

Chris smirked. "We have a contact in the government who provides us with the stuff we need, and even a little extra."

I stood up quickly. "Oh my gosh! I just remembered. My parents are going to be home soon. I have to go!"

I ran past Chris and stopped, looking back.

"Thanks, by the way. For everything."

Chris nodded his head. "No, thank you. And I'm sorry about Jack. He's just really been on edge lately since there very well might be an uprising—and we might be the ones starting it, meaning the pressure and punishment could be great. You know how it is."

I nodded. "I'm sorry I can't stay for coffee. I'll come back tomorrow night and maybe we can grab some then. No, wait—" I paused. "My mom and dad are gonna be working tomorrow. How about the day after?"

Chris shook his head. "A contact told us there's going to be a raid that day. We're all going to have to be careful and watch what we do. I'm sure they'll have spies checking for suspicious activity. But there are people who live here full time, like Jack, Grace and I, who only come out in emergencies. I'm surprised the two of them are still tan. I think it's just their natural skin tone. I'm getting paler by the day."

I quirked a corner of my mouth up. "Thanks, Chris. And I'll be sure to warn my parents about the raid."

"No prob. Now, get!" He teased, slapping me playfully on the back. "Go home and get warm!"

I waved goodbye, and walked until I found the big room where I had been before. It was completely abandoned. It seemed bigger, even colder with no one there.

I redid my braid and smiled slightly at how blonde it still was considering how dirty I got every day.

I flinched to myself as my cheek started throbbing. Great. That Grace girl really made a mark. I could almost feel the bruise growing.

I made my way back through the tunnel, where a man was waiting.

"Are you it?" He asked, hesitantly looking me over.

I cocked my head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you the last of everyone in there besides the ones who are staying?"

I nodded. "I believe so."

The man motioned me through the tunnel and as soon as I started climbing up the shaft of the well, I heard the sound of gurgling water and gears creaking. The water, which so finely guarded their secret, was slowly rising under me, sealing the entrance to the hideout.

I climbed faster, willing my legs to be strong. I was skinny, but not emaciated, developed but not curvy, and strong but not as strong as I should've been living in that time period. You had to be prepared for anything.

I grabbed the last handhold just as it, too, started to give way beneath my hands. I hauled myself out of the well and crouched beside it, gasping.

Yeesh. What a workout at midnight. I narrowed my eyes. Well, tunnel-man must've wanted to scare me out of there pretty fast.

Then I realized how filthy that water must be. From several hundred dirty pairs of hands and feet every day, that water must be pretty germy. I gagged slightly to myself. Gross.

But I guess, at this point, it didn't really matter. The dictator couldn't care less if every one of the people in our town keeled over dead from foul water.

I shook these thoughts from my head and stood up slowly, walking in the direction of my home. When I saw it, I slipped through an open window I had purposefully left like that into my kitchen. After listening for any sound and hearing nothing, I quietly crept up to my room.

To any person visiting, the silence of the town would be eerie and a little scary. You would've thought everyone was dead. Back when—years and years and years ago—my grandmother lived, she said when she was little there were these things called cars that transported people places faster than walking or running. She said also there were things like a television, where people watched stuff move in color, and a refrigerator, which held food that needed to stay cold so it wouldn't rot. And a piano, which I have actually seen; my neighbor secretly showed me it once. But it was soon taken in a raid, which were random and quick, sometimes in only one part of the city. When my grandmother had been twelve, all that stuff had been taken to the dictator's city. He called it his City of Gold.

I shut my bedroom door behind me.

My room was small and cramped, but I still fit in it after seventeen years in the same bed. There was just my bed, a box with all my clothes, and some shelves hammered into the walls filled with books and journals.

I collapsed onto my saggy bed and laid there, too hyped up to be tired. I had found the underground! I wanted to scream with joy. Finally I had a chance to be a part of something that would change the world and possibly set us free.

I slid my jacket off and hung it on my bedpost. Then I took off my boots and curled up in my jeans, long-sleeved black shirt, and socks. I carefully released my hair from its braid, fluffed it, and pulled the covers up over my shoulders. I'd be paying for this little night escapade in the morning, but it was worth it. I could always catch up on sleep later.

I smiled in my sleep and almost squealed again.

I had found the resistance!

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**A/N: That's a wrap! Alright, next chapter should be up tonight. Thanks for reading, and spare a review...? The more reviews I get, the faster I update. Seriously, I'm not kidding. Reviews keep me writing faster.**

**And if you didnt read the top part—in case you haven't noticed—I changed the POV to first person. **

**So, see you soon!**

**—Kit Kat**


	3. Tears

**Here's the second part of my promise!**

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Chapter 3

I woke up to the sound of people talking down on the street. I yawned and opened my eyes. Glancing around, I could see light peeking through my dusty window. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stretched, cracked my back, and put on my jacket. Not too warm, yes, but it gave me a sense of comfort—as if my brother were really here. He was always so kind. So giving, so thoughtful, my best friend. Then he—well, it's not good to dwell on the past.

I brushed my hair out quickly and let it fall down my back instead of braiding it or putting it up.

It was pretty straight, and I'm glad it wasn't super curly or ramrod straight. It was kinda wavy, and went halfway down my back. With not too good hair services, I usually let my hair grow out.

Turning my head to the side, I saw in my cracked mirror that the bruise had gone down a little, but it still looked nasty.

Grabbing my boots, I padded down in my socks to the kitchen, where I saw my mom at the stove. She was making a wheaty, sloppy mess she liked to call breakfast. It tasted horrible, but it really did boost your energy level.

"Someone's up early," my mom commented, stirring the...stuff...in the pot.

I blinked in surprise. "What time is it?" I asked.

"About seven-thirty. Dad's on his way to the mill. I'll be heading there soon, but I wanted to make you breakfast."

"Thanks," I said, making a face at the food. My mom tapped me lightly on the arm with the spoon.

"Hey, if I had anything else, I would make it," she said.

I sat at the table and fastened my boots on my feet, tying the laces tight.

My mom turned off the stove, grabbed two bowls, and poured the sludge in. It was now a tannish color.

She brought them over.

I could smell it now, and almost threw up in my mouth. I told her that, and she laughed, a charming sound.

My mother had blonde hair, like me, but blue eyes where mine were green. Her hair was perfectly straight and shoulder length, curving up at the ends.

She had wrinkles, but her youthful smiles made up for her age. My dad also had blonde hair, and he and my mom had never fought as long as I'd been around. In times such as these, arguing added stress and distracted from the whole business of surviving.

My mom took a bite of the stuff and swallowed.

"Nasty," I said, wrinkling my nose.

I spooned some into my own mouth and plugged my nose. I only ate a couple bites before my mom stood up and ran a hand through her hair.

"I'm going to go now, sweetie," she said, kissing me on the forehead.

"Bye," I replied, and she started out the door before pausing.

Without turning around, she asked, "Do I really want to know what happened to your face?"

I laughed. "Mom, I just banged my head on a door. I was stupid and quick and it was dark."

My mom turned and smiled. "Alright. I'll see you later."

I waited until she was gone and out the door before tossing the mush in the trash and giving my teeth a good brushing.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Teeth still white. Nose still small. Lips still pink and full. Eyes still strong and independent. Cheek still throbbing.

I bit my lip and walked over to the front door, opening it and walking out to the market. During the morning hours, some could call the city cheerful. The sun peeked up over the dead trees on the outskirts of town, but once the rays entered the town itself, things brightened up. Vendors stood out on the street, selling fruits or bread or pastries or tools. There were a couple promiscuous women on several street corners, but not many because most people had realized you need to work to earn money, not just sell yourself.

I walked out and watched as people milled about. Most were teenagers holding the hands of little kids. Almost all of the adults were working in the mills or plowing the fields, but a few stayed to sell goods.

Once you were eighteen, you were required to do something to support your family. Some sixteen and seventeen year olds snuck themselves into work places under false papers and pretended to be older than they were so they could work. My parents wanted me to wait until I was a legal adult.

I began to walk down the street toward the outermost shops. My hair was still loose around my shoulders, and I kinda liked the feeling of being free, when most of the time I needed to keep it out of my face so I could focus.

I pulled my leather jacket tighter around me and as I passed the mute homeless man begging, he gave me a wink. I smiled at him and dug around in my pockets until I found a couple quarters. I dropped them in his tin and he grinned mysteriously up at me.

I had officially made two rebel friends now! Progress. Slow, yes, but progress nonetheless.

As I went by him, someone with a hood up over their face bumped into me and knocked me over. I landed on the sore spot on my head and arms, causing me to cry out.

The person kept their head down as they stood.

"Sorry," a low, gruff voice said. It almost sounded fake.

They extended a hand to help me up. I took it and realized it felt familiar. The same arms that held me when I was about to fall last time...

I removed the person's hood with a swift movement. They gasped and tried to pull it back up, but I had seen their face.

"Jack?" I whispered. They looked up, and brown eyes stared into my green ones.

"Kim?" He hissed back. "What are you doing here?"

"I kinda live here! What are YOU doing up here?"

Jack shushed me and glanced around nervously. "Here, come with me."

He grabbed my hand and yanked me along behind him as he ran through a maze of houses out to an empty field. We sprinted past working farmers until we reached the edge of the forest. Jack pulled me a little further until we were behind a huge oak tree, then shoved me up against it, pinning me by my shoulders.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked, straining against his arms. "Let go of me."

Jack released me and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. I was getting some more food. We were running out and Grace wanted some meat."

My upper lip curled in disgust.

Jack must have noticed because he said, "Grace isn't so bad, you know. It just takes some time to get used to her."

I cocked one eyebrow. "Really. She seems to hate me with a passion."

Jack shrugged but said nothing.

A piece of blonde hair fell in front of my eyes, and I carefully pushed it back behind my ear.

Jack's eyes raked over my hair. "You're wearing your hair down."

"Yeah, so? I don't wear my hair up all the time," I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

Jack put his hands up. "Woah. What's up with you?"

My eyes narrowed. Was he really that stupid? How could he pretend everything was okay?

"Well as I recall, last time we talked you pushed me into a dresser and blamed me for it."

His eyes widened. "You're still thinking about that?"

"Just because we live in tough times doesn't mean you can't act like a gentleman," I snapped. "Then you handed me off to Chris, who, I might add, was a lot nicer to me than you were."

Something flashed in Jack's eyes. But it was gone so fast I thought I must've imagined it.

"Why'd you even bring me out here anyway?" I asked irritably.

Jack leaned away slightly. "Just wanted to talk is all. And...apologize."

"Apologize."

"Yes. I do know what that word means, you know. So, I'm sorry."

"For what?" I pushed, hoping to make him uncomfortable.

"Gosh," he said, running a hand through his shaggy hair. Something about that involuntary action made my heart jump slightly. "Are you always this impossible?"

I smirked. "You tell me."

He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry for pushing you and blaming you. Happy?"

I nodded. "Very."

Jack mirrored me as he crossed his arms over his chest. There was a pause.

"I heard there's going to be a raid tomorrow," I said. Jack jolted.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"Chris," I replied. Jack bristled.

"You talked to him a lot?" He asked gruffly.

I nodded slowly. "Yeah," I said, drawing out the word and ending it like a question, with my voice going up. Jack relaxed and let out a puff of air.

"Well, I better get back to shopping for Grace," he said, pulling his hood up over his face.

"Why is she such a bitch?" I spat without meaning to. The words came flying out of my mouth of their own accord.

Jack's face clenched in anger. "Why are YOU such a bitch?"

The statement was out there. I couldn't back down now, even though I felt kinda bad about hurting him. I definitely felt bad—even though I deserved that, him calling me a bitch still hurt.

"I'm not. She's got serious people issues. What is she, a sociopath?"

Jack looked like he might scream. "If you feel that way, why don't you just not come back? Do us all a favor and stay away from us!"

"Maybe I will!" I shouted.

"Good!" Jack yelled back, his features contorted in pure fury. "Leave us alone."

He stalked past me and back through the field.

I began to run to my house and as soon as my bedroom door slammed behind me, I jumped on my bed face first, stuffed my head in my pillow and screamed. I screamed loud and long, the sound full of frustration and anger. Mostly at myself.

Why are you such an idiot? I thought to myself. You got yourself kicked out of the rebellion by the leader. And all because of a childish comment.

I started to throw stuff. My pillow hit the wall with a dull thud. Books and pages went flying. When my room was covered in debris, I sank to the floor against the wall.

I covered my face with my arms and began to cry. Tears dripped onto the hard floor.

What had I done?

I cried and cried until there were no more tears. Then I dried my eyes, stood, and silently picked up my room.

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**A/N: That's it for tonight. Hope it was worth the wait :)**

**—Kit Kat**


	4. Raid

**Hello again! Sorry it's been so long :( I've missed you guys. Don't worry, I plan to update SQ as soon as possible. **

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 4

I woke up tucked in my bed. I must've fallen asleep on the floor and been picked up by my mom.

Slowly sitting up and half awake, I realized my eyes were puffy. I wiped at them, hoping to make the swelling go down.

Then I jerked fully awake. There was supposed to be a raid. Today.

I climbed out of bed and ran downstairs.

"Mom?" I called. "Dad?"

I was wearing a dark green, short-sleeved, form fitting shirt that I'm sure my mother had put on. I was also wearing black compression pants that went down to my ankles.

"Mom?" I called again. I walked through the rooms of my house, looking. I paused to put my hair in a ponytail and a braid from there.

Where were they? I looked at my mom's clock and saw it was about eleven o clock.

"Damn," I said. I'd slept super late. My parents were probably at work and I hadn't even warned them about the raid.

I stopped and yanked on my boots before sprinting out the door. I passed the homeless man, but I didn't stop to say hi. I had never run so fast in my life.

Now I know what you're thinking. It's just a raid. What's the worst they could do? Break some houses, steal some stuff. Those things can be replaced.

Most raids were cruel. People were beaten or killed in their own houses. Men, women, children—it didn't matter. And the worst part, sometimes they'd set fire to work places or houses. Many people tended to die in these raids.

As I neared the mill where my parents worked, I saw smoke. My worst fear realized, my heart practically stopped. I ran faster. People leaned out their windows to see what the strange girl was doing sprinting down the street.

I heard screams coming from that direction, and turned a corner just in time to see the roof fall in on the mill. It was completely on fire.

How could the raid have already started and no one from the rebellion said anything?

I skidded to a halt at the entrance of the mill and looked around wildly. Men and women were pouring out of all exits, pushing and shoving. I couldn't see my parents anywhere.

Suddenly, with a creak and the sound of snapping wood, the entire mill shuddered and caved in. Sparks flew up in the sky and ash billowed out.

"Mom!" I screamed. "Dad!"

Suddenly I saw them, running out a back exit. I went to them, hysterical.

"Dad! Are the raiders here? I'm so sorry I didn't warn you before—"

I cut myself off and gave my dad the biggest bear hug ever. I was so afraid I'd lost them. I don't care if I was seventeen. I needed my parents.

My dad smelled of wood and sawdust. I buried my face in his shoulder.

He pulled away and my mother gave me a hug.

"I'm so glad you're okay," I whispered.

My mom pulled back. "It's okay. It was just a careless man who forgot to stamp out his cigarette. It caught on some wood shavings and the whole place caught fire."

I blinked. There was no raid?

"Mom I have something to tell you," I said.

Suddenly, my dad tapped my mom on the shoulder.

"Honey, there's Amanda. It looks like she was seriously burned," he said. I looked over in that direction and saw a young woman writhing in agony as two other women held still and checked out her burnt leg.

My mother kissed me on the head. "Kim, I have to go. We'll talk later."

"But, Mom, this is super important. It's about a—"

"Kim, go home please. When I come home you can tell me."

"But it's a matter of life and dea—" I protested.

"KIM! Go. Home. Now!" My mother commanded.

Then she hurried off to help Amanda. My dad followed. I stood there helplessly. Was there really nothing I could do?

Worried, I sprinted back home. What should I do? Jack wouldn't want to talk to me. Neither would Grace. Maybe Chris would. I began to walk that way, but suddenly there was a huge explosion behind me. I whirled around and saw home after home exploding. They were near the mill. Fear gripped my heart.

People wailed from inside burning buildings as they cooked to death. The lucky ones were dead in seconds from the explosions.

I was thrown to the ground as a house near me burst apart. A ringing in my ears told me it must've been pretty big.

I turned just in time to see the mill explode outwards like a mushroom almost in slow motion. Fire filled the streets on that side of town. Thank goodness the well was on the other side, or Jack, Grace, Chris, and the well-man would've been buried alive.

I staggered to my feet. Chaos was all around. People dove for shelter; most of them in cellars underground.

I looked around wildly for any family willing to take me in, but all the doors were slammed shut.

The mute homeless man hobbled past me, across the fields, and into the woods. Smart man.

I tried to follow, but another blast knocked me down. I crawled as best I could behind a dumpster.

I heard shouts, so I peeked out and saw men in white uniforms picking up treasures. I even saw one man wrestle a box of jewelry from a woman. I gasped and pulled back so I was hidden from view.

I waited until all noises faded and the town was silent once again. It felt like hours, but it could've been minutes. Slowly, I stood and saw all the rubble surrounding me.

A sudden noise behind me made me spring around, ready to fight. It was a man with a huge shard of glass wedged in his stomach. He was slowly bleeding out and staggering to keep his balance.

He looked at me with pleading eyes. "H-elp. Hel—"

He was cut off by a violent coughing fit that sounded like he was gargling razorblades. He covered it with his hand, and when he pulled it away it was covered in blood.

I stared, horrified, as his eyes traveled from his hand to his stomach.

He glanced one more time into my eyes before collapsing and lying still on the ground.

Shuddering, I turned away. There was absolutely nothing I could do. He was as good as dead, and pulling out the glass shard would have killed him faster.

Brushing away a tear from the unfairness of it all, I limped over to an intact building. I surveyed the landscape. The rebellion knew this was coming, but I'm sure they were unaware of how devastating it would be.

I carefully walked down the street, favoring my left leg. I don't know what happened, but it hurt. I couldn't bring myself to look at it. If it was bent weird, I knew I'd pass out the instant I saw it. And I couldn't afford to be unconscious. Not here, not now.

I crept closer to the mill. I had to find my parents. A feeling of dread took hold of my heart, and began wringing it. My rational side was losing hope. My parents couldn't still be alive, could they? That explosion was huge. They couldn't have survived.

The mill was completely blown to pieces. There were still flaming pieces lying about, and what grass was left around it was burning.

I yelped as someone grabbed my arm and dragged me behind a wall. It was a woman with crazy red hair and a plain brown dress.

"Are you Kim Crawford?" She hissed. Still freaked out and unable to say anything, I nodded.

"I have something to tell you." She paused, looking in my eyes. After a couple seconds I began to feel awkward, so I cleared my throat.

"What are you doing?" I asked. Her eyes began to water.

I suspected she was slightly crazy.

"You're so young," she whispered.

"I'm seventeen."

"Too young to not have parents."

I felt like I'd been sucker punched in the gut. All the air was gone out my lungs.

"W-what are you talking about?" I whispered. That's all I could manage.

She gripped my hands. "Kim, your parents died in the explosion. Your father shoved me out of the way before a stone wall fell from the mill and onto them. They...they died right away. I'm sorry."

I couldn't breathe. My vision was fuzzy. "What?"

I felt like a broken record.

"I'm sorry," she replied, squeezing my hand reassuringly. "My name is Carolyn. If you ever need me, I'm here. But right now I need to go. I'm so incredibly sorry, Kim."

With that, she left. I leaned back against the wall and struggled to breathe. My lungs seemed to not be functioning. Without even thinking about it, I started walking—well, more like hobbling—down the road. I didn't care if someone saw me.

Before my muddled brain could comprehend what was happening, I was pressing in the stones on the side of the well and climbing down. I very well could've compromised the location of the rebellion, but my brain wasn't really working. I was like a robot.

I walked through the left tunnel until I got to the big room. The sight of the familiar place made me lose it. I was no longer in shock; the weight of what had just happened crashed down on me and I sank to the floor, my face cupped in my hands. My body was sprawled on the ground. I began sobbing. I cried harder than I had when my brother had disappeared, and when Jack and I fought. These were heart-wrenching sobs that shook my entire body. I was suddenly cold without my jacket, but everything else felt completely numb.

Images flashed in my head. My father teaching me to climb trees. My mother that past morning, playfully joking with me about how bad the breakfast was. The last breakfast she ever made for me. And I threw it out. I threw it out...

I cried harder and louder, the sounds almost becoming wails.

I was vaguely aware of someone entering the room, then seeing me. They practically ran across the floor and crouched down beside me.

"Kim? Kim? Come on, Kim. Talk to me."

I lifted my head up enough to see shaggy brown hair and a seriously concerned face.

Jack.

He didn't look mad or angry or remorseful or anything except concern for me.

"I–I," I stuttered, unable to express the grief in my heart. I started to sob again, and Jack placed a hand on my back.

"Hey," he murmured. "It's okay."

He lifted me almost effortlessly into his arms, which were strong and warm. He held me and my head rested against his chest. My hands clutched his shirt, never wanting him to leave. I needed someone more now than ever before. I needed someone to tell me it was going to be okay. That I was going to be okay.

When there were no more tears, he gently pulled back and looked at me, brushing tears off my cheeks with his hand.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" He whispered softly.

I took a shaky breath. "I tried to warn my parents about the raid. They weren't listening, so I left. I left. I was so stupid. If I had stayed, maybe they wouldn't be–wouldn't be..."

I couldn't bring myself to say it. I looked away from his searching gaze and felt another tear slip down my cheek.

"No," Jack said, lifting my chin in his fingers so I was looking right at him. "No. You couldn't have stayed. If you had stayed with your parents, you would've died too. You tried to warn them."

"If I just had pushed harder. If I had just refused to leave without them listening to me, we could've escaped to the woods or something—"

Jack shook me gently. "Kim, stop. You can't blame yourself for this. It wasn't your fault. Stop thinking about what you could have done differently. You have to live in the future now. That's what I had to do."

My head had gone down, but it snapped back up.

"Your parents died too right?" I asked quietly. I expected him to tense up and back off, but he just sighed and nodded.

"Yeah. I was thirteen. It was a raid, same as yours. The dictator rounded up some workers and my parents were there. They were all shot."

His eyes began to look distant, as if he was remembering the day.

I put my smaller hand in his larger one and squeezed, bringing him back to earth.

"Did you feel the same way I do?" I asked. He nodded.

"I shut everyone out. Even Grace. I vowed to get revenge. So I joined the rebellion. Slowly I worked my way up to being the leader. They all came to respect me and knew I had an ulterior motive for getting rid of the dictator. I never told anyone why, except you."

I nodded and suddenly my brain flashed white and red with pain. I screeched and looked down for the first time.

There was a giant gash in my left thigh. It was bleeding through my pants, and had already covered almost all of my lower leg. I gasped and Jack seemed to see the injury for the first time. The cut looked pretty deep.

"Oh my gosh," he breathed. "Kim, what happened?"

I blinked. Why was the room tilting?

"I–I don't know..."

I collapsed and Jack caught me easily. He swung me up into his arms and stood, as smoothly as if I weighed nothing.

I shuddered as another round of pain wracked my body.

"Get her to the medic," I heard Jack say to someone. That's all I heard before I passed out.

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**A/N: DUN DUN DUUUUN...**

**—Kit Kat **


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